The End
by Kolibri Halliwell
Summary: It's over. Everything is over. Only one decision left. And Harry has to make it.


Title: The End.

Author: Kolibri Halliwell

E-mail: R for the depression and mental pain.

A cold wind swept through the city of London and a bolt of lightning shot through the black sky. Harry's black hair and clothes fluttered in the rough grasp of the wind. The air was icy cold, but he didn't seem to feel it, even though he was one of its most vulnerable targets. He didn't feel anything at all. No emotions. Nothing. The emptiness he felt was tearing him apart.

He looked down at the city and the dark streets and took one more step toward the very edge of the high building he was on top of.

_A nightmare. Please, let this be a nightmare. The worst nightmare of my life. _

He closed her eyes and hoped with a hint of desperation that when he would open them again, everything would be gone. Everything would be like it was before.

But it wasn't. The cold wind continued to tear at his clothes.

They all were gone. Dead. Everyone, every least one of them.

Dumbledore.

Harry could still see it so clearly. It had been the last time he had faced Voldemort. He saw those red eyes, that evil, sadistic smirk on his lips. And how that wand was pointing toward Harry.

Everything had happened so quickly. Albus Dumbledore appeared into the scene and launged towards Harry just as Voldemort spoke those deadly words. Harry remembered that he had his eyes closed then, waiting for the spell to strike him and finally finish him off for good. Yet the strike never came. He had opened his eyes and there he had been. Albus Dumbledore, lying on the ground right at his feet. His usually white beard grey, his glasses broken and the shards scattered over the ground. His hands had been open, as if reaching toward Harry.

He was dead.

Another lightning shot through the sky.

Hermione.

He wasn't there when she was killed, he didn't see how she died. He never got to see her, say goodbye. He never knew. The Death Eaters attacked so quickly, she was one of their first targets as they surrounded Diagon Alley. He remembered how Ron, who had managed to escape, spoke to Harry in a dead voice. He heard him in his head, like the echo of a ghost. "We were just walking out of Flourish & Blotts when they appeared, so quickly. They killed her Harry, she died right in front of my eyes. I don't remember anything what happened after that, I passed out and woke up at the Burrow. I'm so sorry Harry," he had said in his trembling voice, the horror left as a permanent mark on his face. "I'm the one to blame," he had said in his broken voice. "I could've saved her but I didn't. And now she's gone, Harry, she's gone..."

Harry had loved Hermione, he had loved her so much. But he never got the chance to tell her that. He had wanted to tell it to her at her birthday, surprise her with an engagement ring, roses. God, he would've given anything to her. All his love, anything she could ever want. In this time of darkness, he had wanted to be the light in her world.

And now she was gone.

Ron.

He had died after a month of killings that had happened all over the country. A large group of Death Eaters attacked the Burrow and killed all nine Weasleys. Charlie and Bill were there to visit the family. They never returned. They were all dead. All of them.

Snape.

Killed while he was on a spy mission for Dumbledore.

Remus and Sirius.

Killed while fighting against a group of Death Eaters. They had caught them off guard when they were on a mission for the Order of Phoenix. Hagrid and Maxime never returned from the Giants.

Minerva McGonagall. The rest of the teachers of Hogwarts. Even the Dursleys. All his classmates had either fled to another country or got killed at one of the massacres. Death Eaters killed all, Wizards or Muggles. They were all gone now. All of them. He didn't have anyone anymore, he had taken them all away from him now.

Voldemort.

He wanted to keep Harry alive. To torture him. He wanted Harry to suffer, to see how great his power was. He knew that Harry's friends and family meant everything to him. He knew that Harry didn't care much about his life, but he would gladly give it for one of his friends.

And now he had no one to give it for.

Harry opened his bright green eyes and looked carelessly over the Ghost Town that once used to be one of the most lively cities in the world.

And then he took another step. Now he was standing on the very edge of the building. He looked down and saw the tattered pages of old newspapers making a wild dance in the air and on the streets, trapped in the grasp of the wind. Some of the people never got the chance to turn off their lamps and now, when the battery was low, he could see how the light flickered through the windows of the houses all around him.

It was a nightmare, all of this was a nightmare. It had to be.

He was too weak. Too weak to go on, too weak to take any more of the torture and pain that had been inflicted on him. He didn't care anymore, he had no one to care for. He had no strength, he didn't even care about his revenge. He was so tired.

He just wanted to sleep.

He collapsed on the top of the building, at the very edge of it. He never got the chance to do what he wanted to do: jump. The darkness of a dreamless sleep surrounded him like a comforting cloak, shielding him from the world, from the nightmares and from himself.

The pressure on his head was equal to the body of a man pressed between two giant trucks. He let out a weak moan while he struggled to get up, slowly opening his eyes. Shimmers of colors were passing him by and it took a moment until he could regain control of his senses and see the world as it really was.

He was still on top of the building. It was raining down and the sky seemed to be a bit brighter than before - the raging thunderstorm had passed. Harry didn't even realise his clothes and his hair was soaking wet.

Someone had dragged him away from the edge and he was now lying a few feet away from it. That someone...

That someone was now standing at the edge of the building, reminding Harry of a black, tall shadow, not quite constant, as if trapped in a perpetual process of dissolving. The persons cloak was fluttering in the wind. It was a male. He looked down over the city and was holding his wand lowered in his right hand. As soon as Harry fixed his gaze on him, he turned around, as if sensing that he was being watched. His red, snake-like eyes flashed.

Voldemort.

Harry didn't feel anything. It was if his senses had left him. In a way he thought it was good; that way he didn't need to feel the pain. The pain would tear him apart. Yet in a way... In a way this emptiness was even worse than the pain. He didn't feel human anymore. Now he knew how the Dementors Kiss felt like. He didn't need one anymore, it wouldn't make any difference.

Nothing made any difference. Not even the fact that his nemesis was standing right in front of him.

"Good morning," Voldemort said in a low voice with a grin playing in the corners of his mouth. "I hope you haven't watched me for a long time, I was just admiring my work. Did you sleep well?"

Harry just looked at him with tired eyes, tired body and a tired heart. Or did he even have a heart anymore?

"Just kill me," Harry whispered in a barely audible voice and closed his eyes.¨

Voldemort laughed. It was a cold and merciless laugh.

"To kill you and free you from your pain, your torture?" The scarlett eyes narrowed, but the voice remained calm, almost with a tone of apathy, contradicting the words that were filled with so much hatred. "Never. I want you to suffer, to pay back for the years I had to spend alone, helpless in those dreadful forests. When I had no one, no true servants who could help me to regain my strength. And you haven't paid back yet, not by far, my dear Harry. Oh no, I'm not going to kill you."

"Then what are you going to do with me?" Harry said, his voice even more apathetic than the one of his arch enemy. Voldemort's sadistic smile nearly faded away and he looked at Harry with an unredable expression on his pale, emaciated face.

"You have no one left," he said calmly. "They are all dead. Can you hear, can you imagine their screams in your head?"

Harry looked at Voldemort and his eyes slowly filled with pain and helplesness.

Voldemort watched Harry for another few minutes. He then waved with his wand and a transparent image appeared on the right side of him. It was an image of Hermione and Ron, when they had been in Diagon Alley on that faithful day. Harry knew what this was about. He tried to close his eyes but he couldn't, he couldn't control his body anymore or any of his reflexes. He kept his eyes fixed on the moving images.

Hermione and Ron entering Flourish & Blotts, laughing warmly about a joke Ron had just told. Hermione dragging Ron around the bookshop and pointing at several books. Harry twinged as he heard his friends voice.

"Herm, why don't you just buy the whole store."

Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up several books. She walked over to the counter and paid for them. Then... They walked out of the bookshop and everything happened so quickly. Harry could hear the screams of several people, but he couldn't see the Death Eaters. Suddenly there was a flash of green light that hit Hermione and her books fell down to the floor, together with her body. Ron looked petrified before he fell down to his knees, reaching out for her, ignoring the whizzes of green light that was coming in his direction. The next minute he lost his consciousness and soon enough Aurors were surrounding him and Hermione as well as the other dead wizards and witches. Screams of lament filled the memory scene.

Frantic thoughts ran through Harry head as he saw this.

If he only had been there... If only he could've saved her... Somehow... Never got the chance to tell her that he loved her...

The imagas faded and changed. Now they showed the Burrow.

"No," Harry exclaimed silently, yet he couldn't walk away. Voldemort just stood still, his black cloak fluttering in the wind. He kept watching Harry. Now they showed the Weasley's kitchen and the whole family sitting around the table, eating. They hardly smiled and Mr. Weasley looked nearly dead. Mrs. Weasley looked very pale and the children were quiet. Harry's heart couldn't take much more pain. He couldn't watch this.

But he couldn't stop.

He looked at Ron and how he was telling something to George while he was reaching for the potatoes. Then there was a sudden explosion and about ten dark hooded man apparated into the kitchen.

Their first victem was Arhtur Weasley.

"No, please stop," Harry whispered and finally managed to close his eys. "I can't look at this."

He didn't look at it but he could still hear the screams. Mrs. Weasley let out a terrifying scream as he heard Mr. Weasley's body falling down to the floor. Bill and Charlie seemed to be fighting back, he could hear several Death Eaters swearing and spells being cast. The other children didn't even manage to react.

Their screams continued to ring in Harry's ears even when it was over and the images had faded.

Why, oh God why... Why this massacre, all this death... Why... Why Ron and his family... Why Hermione... Why Albus Dumbledore... Why...

Voldemort spoke after he head read Harry's thoughts.

"Because of you," he said. "It's all because of you."

"No," Harry said in a broken voice and shook his head.

"Oh yes," Voldemort hissed and seemingly enjoyed the pain in Harry's voice. "It's all because of you. It's your fault. They're dead because of you."

"No, you ordered to kill them!" Harry exclaimed angrily and looked up at Voldemort with incredible anger in his eyes. His voice echoed in the desert that had once been his reality, his life. Hatred beyond words filled his voice. "You killed all these people, separated all these families! Don't you blame your deeds on me, you murderous bastard!"

Voldemort grinned, apparently taking pleasure in Harry's hatred that had finally come to the surface. "I have no intention to. I'm proud of my work. But that's not what I mean, Harry. Even though I and my men killed these pathetic souls, you're still the reason they died. I killed them because I wanted to hurt you, therefore you _are_ responsible for their deaths. If you hadn't stayed alive, if you had died when you were supposed to, they would all be alive."

"Then why don't you just go ahead and kill me, once and for all!" Harry shouted out and seemed to be growing in height as he straightened his posture, facing Voldemort, nothing but pain seen in his face. "Kill me and free me from this pain," he whispered in his croaked voice. "It is tearing me apart. You know this already. I'm afraid and I'm scared," he continued and looked at Voldemort. "That you might be right. That it really is my fault. That this," he waved over the city as the wind increased, "is my fault. That you only did this because of me. But why? Why do you want to torture me this much? Why are you willing to kill all these people just to bring me so much pain?"

"Revenge, Harry," Voldemort said softly and looked at him. "You remind me of me as Tom Dolder so much," he suddenly said, a hollow laughter escaping his lips. "We have the same background, the same personalities, you even look like Tom Dolder."

Harry shook his head in a furious manner. "I'm nothing like you and don't you dare to say that we have the same personalities."

Voldemort laughed. "Oh Harry, you are so blind. We do have the same personalities. The Sorting Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin and you should've listened to that silly and tattered piece of crap. But when you denied it and chose Gryffindor instead, you denied your true nature. Because deep down inside of your heart, you know that you are just like me. You've just never realized it."

Harry just looked at him, speechless. Voldemort grinned, but the grin as always didn't reach up to his eyes.

"That's why I wanted to bring you pain. You," he paused, bringing more drama into his words and twirling the wand almost playfully between his fingertips. "You have always been loved. Even when you were an orphan, everyone loved you. Now this is the only difference between us - no one ever loved me. Not until my true family, my faithful servants began looking up to me. Everything changed when I became Lord Voldemort, everything. My servants loved me."

"They didn't love you," Harry hissed. "They were just afraid you. Still are. If they could, they would gladly leave you."

"You're wrong," Voldemort said, the quickness in his retor being the only thing that gave away the sudden emotion. "They wouldn't leave me, even if they could." He sighed and smiled, firing off a blast of light from his wand that killed a dog on the street. "But they can't. The Dark Mark will be on their arms forever, never leaving them like a dear friend."

Harry glared at him. "You're insane, you know that?"

"Yes, I do, actually." Voldemort twirled his wand between his fingers. "We are so much alike Harry," he repeated and looked down at his wand. "If only you could've crossed over to the Dark Side, we could've done great things together, we would have been unstoppable. But you were on the Good Side and your attempts to stop me succeeded a couple of times, I'll admit that. I'm back now, however, greater and more powerful than ever. Just look what I've done," he waved his wand over London. "This I have done because of you. And the next country," he looked at Harry. "We'll conquer together."

Harry stared at him and then laughed out right into his face. It was hysterical laugh, full of insanity and hate. "What?"

"Think about it, Harry Potter," Voldemort said calmly as Harry had stopped laughing. "You have no one. No one in this whole wide world. Except myself. Take heed, Harry... I've got something you would be forever grateful for." He smiled slightly as he waved with his wand again and another image appeared.

This time the image didn't move. It was an image of Harry's parents, Lily and James Potter.

Harry's heart leaped and he looked from the image to Voldemort, who was still smiling.

"Think about it Harry," he repeated. "And consider my offer. I can bring them back to you. I can give you back your parents."

Harry hesitated slightly. What he was considering here was making a deal with the devil, but the thought of having his parents right next to him was overwhelming him. He had never wanted anything so bad. To jump into his mother arms, to see his father, not in a mirror, not in a dream, but in life... In real life.

Harry swallowed. "What do you want in return?" he whispered.

Voldemort continued to smile.

"I want you to join me under the Dark Mark, Harry Potter. And I want you to become my servant."

Harry looked at him and time seemed to stop. The wind stopped to blow and it didn't rain anymore. It was quiet, so quiet, the wind didn't dare to whisper. The city was dead. Everything was dead. Everyone was dead. There was no one there anymore, no one who cared. No one who knew.

Except for Voldemort, his red eyes watching him.

Harry looked back at him, his thoughts drifting away. His parents. Lily ad James Potter. Alive.

"They will hate me, they will despise me, they won't understand me," Harry said.

"You're wrong," Voldemort said, his eyes growing wider, a sense of passion creeping into his voice. "I'll put them under the Dark Mark as well. They will love you Harry, their beloved son. You will have more love than you could ever imagine. Think about it Harry, think about your parents, right next to you, alive."

This was wrong, this was so horribly wrong. But Harry couldn't see anything except those red, hypnotizing eyes. His parents... Alive.

Slowly, Voldemort extended his pale hand toward Harry. "Join me Harry Potter," he whispered, his eyes filled with a frantic and dangerous glow. "Think about your parents. They will be grateful. They will love you. You have nothing without them, nothing left. I won't let you die, I'll keep you alive and you'll live with your torturing pain and the guilt for the rest of your life. Do you really want that, Harry? When you can have your parents instead?"

Harry breathed and looked from Voldemort's eyes to his hand that was still stretched out.

He was right. Voldemort was right. He really didn't have anything. He had nothing to loose and everything to win.

The Boy Who Lived looked at Lord Voldemort, the bright green eyes against the snake shaped red.

A large lightning scorched through the sky as Harry took Voldemort's hand in his own. The last thing he felt before he passed into the darkness was the terrifying pain in his scar.


End file.
